Sanity
by PananaUyu
Summary: When Kakashi is wrongly accused of being a double agent, he must seek shelter or be killed for treason. The Hyuugas are his only chance for survival... Kakashi x Hinata storyline. Sorry if my summaries are horrible! Rated T just in case. :
1. Bitter Coffee and a Chance of Horrible

**1**

**Bitter Coffee and a Large Chance of Horrible**

Have you even fallen ten stories after being jumped on by an elephant, and then immediately afterwards had a house dropped on you?

That's what a hangover feels like.

I moaned. Damn Anko. Why did she have to invite me to go on a drinking binge with her? Okay, so maybe I had wanted to see if she would get wasted. And maybe I had wanted to see if, while she was utterly smashed, I would have gotten lucky. Too bad I hadn't factored in Anko's die-hard personality. It just makes sense that she would be a heavy drinker… but of course, I hadn't thought of that. That girl can really hold her liquor.

I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair as I looked around my empty room. The slight pressure of my fingertips on my skull only made my pounding headache even worse. It seemed that the only person who got completely hammered was… me.

Somehow, I managed to roll out of bed and not injure myself more. The first thing I did every morning, without exception, was to put on my mask. The feel of the cool satin slipping over my skin and the soft rustle it made as I pulled it into place never ceased to relax me. And on days when every other part of my body was in massive pain, it was a welcome, if short, relief. What can I say? Old habits die hard. My mask, I was sure, would come with me to the grave.

I opened the shutters as I made my way to the kitchen, only to close them again as the glaring summer sun intensified my headache. For goodness' sake, it was only nine in the morning and the sun was already like this? I winced. Whoever invented alcohol was a great genius, but couldn't he have been a little bit more considerate to the consumers and made it come without the horrible side effects? I made a note on my mental list of things to do when I have free time to invent an alcohol that is hangover free. That entry went right underneath the one that reminded me to keep working on a way to find world peace so that I would actually have free time. Yeah, the life of a ninja is hard. At least I keep myself entertained.

So far, the only way I knew how to get rid of a massive hangover like this one was to make the blackest coffee possible and get close to ODing on Tylenol. Caffeine and pharmaceutical drugs: a match made in heaven.

Just as I finished pouring myself a cup of coffee and had sat down to enjoy it, there was a knock at my door. A ninja's life didn't really follow any set rules, but I believed that there was one that would always prevail. Ninjas followed Murphy's Law: whenever you can least afford an assignment, one would always pop up. No exceptions.

I sighed. I really didn't feel like talking to anyone. Oh well. What could I do? If it was one of my superiors and I didn't open the door, I'd be grilled. For at least a decade. Maybe more.

"Coming," I called out, and then regretted it. Although my voice was at a normal volume, my head was extremely sensitive. I cursed Anko silently and popped three or four pills into my mouth and washed them down with a swig of coffee. My face involuntarily screwed up as the coffee made its way down. Ugh. It was extremely bitter—it tasted like jet fuel. Gross. At least it kind of helped. Hopefully, the drugs would kick in soon. Maybe they would make me a little bit more sociable.

I made my way to the door, and on a thought, glanced down at my clothes—or, more aptly, my lack thereof. Hopefully the person at my door would be someone I was on good terms with, since all I was wearing was a pair of pajama pants that rode low on my hips. I wasn't wearing a shirt because, frankly, those things are overrated.

I wasn't prepared for what awaited me when I opened my door. The first thing to greet me was a small hand, flying towards my face. Thankfully I had enough time to duck, but I could still feel the slight rush of air that the hand displaced as it ruffled my hair. Thank goodness for my reflexes.

I straightened up and was disgruntled when I found that the hand was attached to an arm, and the arm was attached to a body, and attached to that body was the head of my superior, Godaime Tsunade. Ah, yes. This day _could_ get worse.

"Lady Tsunade, what a nice surprise," I said in greeting. My voice was rough from a combination of sleepiness and being hung over. I had only been awake for about… five minutes. Of course, leave it to the lady Hokage to barge in on me so early in the day. "You're here quite early."

"Kakashi, you fool! Don't you know it's rude to keep a lady waiting?" Tsunade's face was in its usual scowl as she pushed past me inside, completely ignoring the fact that I hadn't really invited her in yet. I chuckled and closed the door behind her. Yeah, we were good friends. Unfortunately, we were such good friends that we were had the right to rat on each other as often as we wanted. Of course, Tsunade was the only one that actually exercised this right. As for me, I took pride in exasperating her with my nonchalant attitude.

Tsunade sat down gracefully in one of my chairs. Any other woman with her build coming into my apartment and sitting down in one of my chairs would be incredibly sexy. Too bad she was just intimidating. I wouldn't make a move on the Hokage for all the money in the world—because it'd take more that that to pay for my medical bills.

I put away the bottle of Tylenol and switched off my coffee maker. I try to do my part to help the environment. When I turned, Tsunade was scrutinizing my outfit. "Put some clothes on, you fool," she snapped. "I can't talk to you when you look like _that_." I grinned mischievously, but complied. I didn't want another near-slap to the face. As I pulled a random shirt out of my drawer and pulled it on, I asked her, "So, why did you barge into my house at this hour, other than for a friendly social visit?" I turned around to face her, my hands on my hips.

In response, Tsunade threw a bottle at my face. I quickly reached up and caught it to avoid more injury to my sensitive head. "Ouch," I said as I came to sit next to her, "somebody's feeling catty today." I studied the bottle as I said this—it was shaped from a dark brown piece of glass, making the contents inside look very unappealing.

Tsunade rolled her eyes. "Actually, Anko mentioned to me this morning that you two went drinking last night." She chuckled tersely. "I thought you might have a pretty bad hangover. Coffee and multiple anti-inflammatory pills won't do the job."

"Oh." I took a swig of the medication and gagged. It tasted like horse pee mixed with bitter breadfruit and a dash of honey, which gave it a sickly sweet aftertaste. "Ugh. What IS this stuff?" Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, it began to clear up the fog that was surrounding my head. I took another stomach-churning swig.

When I looked up at Tsunade, her face had darkened, and her features were brooding. This wasn't the usual Tsunade. Normally, she'd be chastising me about the state of my apartment—messy, with clothes strewn haphazardly along both the floor and the counters—or getting straight to business about the next mission that she expected me to do. It wasn't like her to not reply to a question; it definitely was not like her to be sullen, unless it was a very serious situation.

Immediately, my light mood disappeared. I found myself leaning forward, the muscles in my body tensing in response. To an outsider, it would seem trivial, to get so worked up at the difference in Tsunade. But outsiders didn't know the connection that we had… that we still have. Although we were years apart, we were familiar enough that we knew when something was wrong with the other. Working with each other all these years probably contributed to our connection.

"What's wrong?" My voice was rough from stress. When she didn't answer, I was even more worried. "Tsunade…" She looked up at me when I said her name, her eyes tight. She leaned in closer to me, as if she didn't want her voice to carry far. Not that it would—my apartment was eavesdropper-proof. I made sure of it myself.

"Listen, Kakashi. You're a good friend of mine, and I'll always trust you." Normally, hearing her say such sentimental things would send us both into puking fits. But this was different. Her voice was laced with worry, and her brows had pulled down over her eyes. She licked her lips before continuing, as they were dry. "This is why I came to you first… before anyone else could." I blanched. What did she mean? Was she in trouble?

"Kakashi." Her voice took on a more serious tone, and her eyes flicked back and forth minutely, as if reading off a paper. I knew that she was doing exactly that—except that the paper that she was quoting was memorized. She was such an overachiever. "The Council of Elders has found evidence that you are acting as a spy for an outside village. Although you are a trusted member of Konoha, the evidence is incriminating." Her eyes locked on mine as she watched this news ravage my features. So the person in trouble wasn't her—it was me. I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off. "Kakashi, I trust that this is all a misunderstanding. However, the Council does not side with me, because we cannot _prove_ that the evidence that we found was… planted." Her voice sounded strange as she stumbled past that last word, as if her mouth could not find a way to make it fit. "Since the evidence strongly suggests that you are a spy-" Her voice broke on the word, "-we, or more aptly, the _Council_, have decided that you must be detained and interrogated."

Have you ever had a moment when you could see your entire world crumble before your eyes?

I have. More than once.

The rush of hot water over my body helped to calm me, if only slightly. I lifted my face into the spray and ran my hands through my hair. My headache was completely gone now—only to be replaced by a dull ache that pulsed throughout my entire body. My head was so cluttered with thoughts, with actions, and with words, that the only way to drown them out was to focus on the ache. And, obviously, drowning out pain with more pain isn't really a good idea. But it was all that I could do.

I leaned against the wall of the shower and ran my hand down my face. The shock was still evident on my features. The last time I had looked in a mirror, I resembled nothing of the cool, calm man that others categorized me as. My face was pale, and my mouth was set in a hard, straight line, as if resisting the gravity that threatened to pull it down. As for my eyes—they were the eyes of a hopeless man. I wouldn't call them eyes, really. They were more like black holes.

I remembered every word that she had said, even though it had been a few hours ago. I still remember every word she said, even though it has been countless days since that moment. She had taken my hand in hers. _"Kakashi,"_ she had said, her voice smoldering—there really was no other way to describe it. _"I will not let this happen to you."_

That is why she had arranged for me to be hidden until this was all cleared up. I frowned, remembering her choice. Hiashi Hyuuga had agreed to harbor me, even if it was somewhat grudgingly. Shocker, I know.

_"Hiashi?"_ I had hissed in a low, rasping voice. _"What the hell? You know that he and I don't exactly get along."_ He was exactly the opposite of me. He was cold and rigid, the kind of guy that stuck to the rules, no matter what. Me, I liked to think of myself as a funny guy. A guy that follows the rules until there's a time that they're meant to be broken. Trying to shove Hiashi and me into the same room was like trying to get Jiraya to become a homo. It was just unnatural.

So of course I had been in shock when she explained that I would be hidden at the Hyuuga compound for an indiscernible amount of time. I had been even more shocked when I learned that the only reason Hiashi was doing this was because he had done something wrong, and Tsunade had blackmailed him into doing her this favor. Well, maybe blackmailed is the wrong word. She sort of bribed him—if he did this for her, she would convince to council to drop all his charges. Because, apparently, the charges against me were greater—Hiashi wouldn't be detained on sight. I, on the other hand, would.

I shook my head as I turned off my shower. The steam rose around me as I reached for my towel and wrapped it around myself. I wonder what that man had done. I couldn't see Hiashi doing anything criminal. He was so uptight he seemed like he always had a pole shoved up his ass.

Oh well, it wasn't my place. I toweled off my hair and made my way to my room. It was a good thing that Tsunade had more faith in me than the council of elders, I thought as I stared at the small bag that contained most of my belongings. These accusations were absurd. Why the hell would _I_ spy on Konoha? Konoha was my home! I would never… I had to stop myself. I knew that I could go on fuming all day, but then nothing would get done. Damn whoever did this to me. Damn the evidence. What could the council have found that would make me look like a spy? I glared daggers at my bag. That small, insignificant beige lump was the only thing that made this all real to me. Funny, isn't it, how it's the small things that make you realize the direness of the situation?

There was a loud rap on my door as I finished pulling on my clothes. I turned reluctantly from trying to bore a hole in my bag and slipped my mask over my face. It was Lady Tsunade, here to escort me to the Hyuuga compound. Not that I needed escorting, seeing as we'd just be teleporting there, but Tsunade was probably afraid that if I showed up by myself Hiashi would call off the deal and kick me out then and there. Like I said, we didn't really get along. At all.

I glanced around my room for what would be the last time in a long time. I would miss it. Although it was sparsely furnished, even less so now that I had almost emptied it of anything meaningful to me, it was still _my_ room. My eyes swept past my bed and desk until they rested on my large weapon holders. On a second thought, I quickly shoved them into my bag and zipped it closed. You know. Just in case.

I turned and exited my room, closing the door behind me. I strode quickly to the door, but paused with my hand on the knob. I turned and looked over my house—my home—one final time. My eyes swept past my messy kitchen and the smaller, yet still significant, piles of clothes on the floor. I vowed to myself that when I got back, I would clean it. When. I preferred that word over if.

There was another sharper, more impatient knock on my door. "Yeah, yeah, don't bust my door down; I can't afford another one," I called out.

I allowed myself one final longing glance before turning to meet my fate.

* * *

I looked out of my window wistfully. It was another beautiful day. _Maybe today, I'll be able to hang out with my friends, like any other normal twenty-year-old. Maybe today, my father will look at me and see something worthwhile. Maybe today Neji will—_

"Hinata!" A loud bang interrupted my thoughts. I jumped and almost knocked over a vase that I had been arranging flowers in. Catching it and steadying it, I sighed in relief and looked up to see my sister, Hanabi, with her usual scowl plastered on her face. Well, usual isn't really the right word. It was her usual expression when she was in my presence. To everyone else, she was as radiant as the sun.

Never mind what I had been hoping before. Hanabi's scowl said volumes about what today was going to be like. Today's forecast: sunny with a large chance of Horrible.

"H-Hanabi c-chan, g-good m-morning." I stuttered my way through morning greetings as usual. My speech impediment was yet another reason my family found me weak and worthless.

Hanabi rolled her eyes, skipping the pleasantries as was usual for her. "Daddy wants to see us," and I could tell that she believed that 'daddy' only wanted to see her, but he didn't want to seem rude. Hanabi was such a daddy's girl—literally. She was the only one comfortable enough around Father to use such pet names for him. But the real reason Hanabi loved Father so much was because Father loved her more. She was like his follower—his protégé, if, in the Hyuuga clan a girl can be called a protégé.

I stood and patted down my traditional Kimono. Outside of my house, I wore my ninja clothing, the same outfit every time. But inside, I was a Hyuuga heiress. It was my duty to look—if not fit—the part.

Duty. That word always left a bitter taste in my mouth, even though it was a frequent part of my vocabulary. I had used that word so often in my childhood that it became a habit to describe anything that was necessary but that I disliked doing as a duty.

Duties to my family were the ones that defined my distaste for the word. I didn't really fit in my family; I was an oddball in the Hyuuga clan. On the outside, I looked like a Hyuuga, but on the inside, I was of a completely different species. No matter how much I disliked duties to my family, I couldn't do much about them. I could not hate my familial duties with passion, for I'd get punished if I did. I could only hate dully, from a distance. Everything I did with my family seemed to be from a distance. No matter how hard my father tried to make it seem to the outside world that I was accepted in my family, I just wasn't. Half of it was of my own accord. I didn't fit in with my family, and they didn't really try to get me to fit in. It was easier that way.

Hanabi grabbed my arm and pulled me after her. I stumbled, not expecting her haste, and she snorted. I was glad that she was mature enough now to not make fun of me for every mistake, as she used to. It's not like Hanabi and I didn't get along. We were like any other pair of sisters—we fought, we cried, we screamed, together. We did have our good moments, but lately they were few and far between. The only difference between us and regular sisters was that we seemed to exist in our own little ecosystems.

Our family had its own little ecosystem, too. Hanabi was like the sun. Everyone loved and adored her. She actually couldn't see how it could be any other way. She was a spoiled child. It wasn't her fault; it probably was Father's. He indulged her too often, and she began to expect it. Her brightness was probably because of everyone else's attentions.

If Hanabi was the sun, then I was the moon, in the last throes of its waning cycle. In our family's small world, I was definitely not in the center. I was off to the side, throwing a wan light on those around me. I was merely an accessory, not incredibly vital. I was there, but no one really noticed me unless they looked hard.

I was snapped out of my revere as we entered the sitting room used exclusively by our family. Father sat at the head of a long table, sipping a cup of tea as an attendant stood nearby. If Hanabi was the sun, and I was the moon in our familial universe, then Father was our earth. He revolved around Hanabi, and I, dutifully, revolved around him.

Our father looked up at us, his cold brown eyes frostbitten as they met mine. I bowed and stuttered my way through a standard greeting for this time of day. It did nothing to sway his wintry features. However, once his eyes met Hanabi's, the frost in them melted and I watched winter progress rapidly into summer. Our family's sun had done her job—the following enthusiastic greeting was hardly necessary. But it helped a bit; the calm mirror that was father's face cracked, the corners of his mouth spider-webbing upwards, without all the bad side effects that normally came from breaking glass.

"Hinata, Hanabi." Our father smiled as best as he could manage, his voice a snowmelt—flowing, yet still cold. "Good morning to you both." He gestured to the attendant and then spoke to Hanabi. "Follow Anjo-san, please. He has breakfast ready for you. I need to speak to Hinata alone." No matter how hard father tried to hide it, his voice sounded off. Tension, I presumed. What was displeasing him today? Was it me?

Hanabi's lower lip jutted out in a drama-queen pout. Her eyes were burning with curiosity, but she didn't press the matter; she merely glanced at me before following our servant out of the room. My questions were mirrored in her gaze, and I knew why she didn't push Father to let her stay. She was obviously expecting him to chew me out. As was I.

Which was why I was surprised when Father closed the door, locking it securely. He turned and spoke to me in rush of words—I wasn't ready for the sudden flow. He had never spoken more then ten words at a time to me, so twenty or even thirty seemed like an excess. "Hinata. What I am about to tell you, you must not repeat to anyone. Promise me," he said, glaring at me for a few moments before continuing. "It must be our secret. No one but you and I and our… guest… must know." Guest? What guest? "Listen, Hinata. Tsunade has…persuaded me to harbor a fugitive." My eyes widened and my father smirked tensely before continuing. "He's not your normal fugitive—he actually may be innocent. But his life is in danger because of the accusations of the Council. He could be killed as a traitor."

I managed to get a few words in. "Why… why must _we _harbor him?" What had made Lady Tsunade choose us? Our family, while heavily guarded from the outside world, was gossip-prone. It wasn't the smartest choice on her part.

"Well, you see, Lady Tsunade and I made a deal." He smiled grimly, but I noticed his face darken. "And, unfortunately, my duties prevent me from watching over our fugitive myself. Therefore, I have appointed you as his guardian. Lady Tsunade has offered to give you a mission credit if you do this, because, of course, we _will _say that you are on a mission. You will not eat, train, or even look outside of the walls of the Hyuuga compound until this is resolved." His voice became cold and hard again—black winter ice.

I opened my mouth to protest, but was cut off by two loud rushing sounds. I immediately put them into place. Two ninjas had teleported right into our sitting room.

I turned grudgingly to look upon the man that would keep me from my life.


	2. Full Moons and Fault Lines

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A/N: Hey guys! First A/N ever... aha. Sorry about that. Me and my untechnological-ness just doesn't click with computers. Ugh.

So yeah, my story's about KakaHina. Obviously. The first chapter didn't really go anywhere, huh? I guess it was like an intro. I don't really think that this chapter goes very far either (I'm sorry Hina's POV was so short... I just... ran out of ideas there. In my mind, the chapter ended at that certain point. So there) but hopefully I didn't bore you guys. Haha!

Please review! It gives me a major morale boost. :D yup. And feel free to give me suggestions. I'm fine with that. Oh, and correct me if my Naruto info is wrong. Haha. I stopped reading the manga after Garaa "died". :P

Oh, man, there were SO many things I was going to say here... but I just blanked out. Okay, well. Read on, faithful adventurer!

Anyway! First Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, or the characters. All rights go to viz media and the creator. :D

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**2**

**Full Moons and Fault Lines**

There were daggers piercing my skin while I froze under a cold, unforgiving sun. And, to top it all off, I was beginning to feel incredibly awkward.

Hiashi Hyuuga's stare is like a war zone in snow country.

Tsunade was the first one to break the awkward silence. I hate to admit it, but when it came to dealing with unpleasant people, Tsunade had more guts than I did. I tended to declare my hatred of them and then simply walk away. Of course, I couldn't do that _now,_ or I'd be out of a safe place to stay. Damn my luck.

"Hiashi," she glanced over at the girl by his side, overshadowed by the Hyuuga leader's large frame, quizzically, but to be polite, didn't press the matter for the moment. "Hinata. Thank you for accommodating us on such short notice." Tsunade and I bowed respectfully. As Hiashi was returning the bow, I snuck a quick glance at his daughter. I hadn't seen her for over three years, probably due to conflicting mission schedules. She hadn't gotten much taller, having hit her growth spurt at an earlier age. Her face, however, had lost most of its earlier traces of baby fat. She looked _older._

Well, at least I thought she looked older. At the current moment, her features were contorted by the shock that seemed to have just hit her. Her mouth was comically open, and her wide eyes were like two twin moons. When my gaze met hers, she looked away, embarrassment momentarily overshadowing her shock. Yeah, I know. I seem to have that effect on people.

I turned my head back quickly before Hiashi could notice. All three of us straightened up, and Hinata rose out of the chair she had been sitting in, trying to repress her surprise for the sake of politeness. At a glance from her father, she bowed and stuttered, "Tsu-Tsunade-sama, Ka…Kakashi-sama. G-Good morning." Her voice hitched on my name and my mouth twitched upward for a moment before I could control it. She didn't seem to be able to wrap her head around the fact that I was the alleged 'traitor.' Then again, neither could I.

We quickly bowed again. I straightened up, only to be nearly buckled over by the weight of Hiashi's stare. Damn. I'd have to spend an entire… who-knows-how-long with him? _Merciful Lord,_ I prayed, _please don't abandon me in my time of need._

Hiashi cleared his throat. "Well. I have just finished briefing Hinata on the situation." His voice was like ice. _Oh, God, I can't deal with him for the entirety of my stay here._

Tsunade was immediately incensed. "Damn it, Hiashi! I TOLD you not to tell _anyone,_" she snapped, whacking him on the arm. He barely flinched, but I knew that her chakra-laden hit must have hurt. Tsunade was not exactly ladylike in her punches. Believe me, I should know.

Hiashi drew in a breath, irritated. "Yes, I know that," he said through clenched teeth, "but obviously I cannot be expected to care for Hatake-san every day. I have a family to head, you know." Even though he omitted the words, his tone clearly implied, _I also have an image to keep up_. I tried very hard not to roll my eyes. What a prick.

Tsunade ground her teeth together, pressing her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose. "Fine," she spat. "So, what? You've decided to drop it all on your daughter?" Hinata looked up at the Hokage's mention of her. I began to feel a glimmer of hope. Was I safe? _Lord, don't give up on me just yet, _I repeated over and over in my head.

Hiashi actually _snorted._ Oh my god, what was the world coming to? Where were the flying pigs? "That's not exactly the word I would use." He ran his hand through his hair. Tensions were high in this small room. "Hinata will be in charge of taking care of Hatake-san-" My hopes inflated exponentially, even though I knew that Tsunade would be the one who Okayed the idea. "-and making sure no one else finds out that he is here." He turned his icy gaze on his daughter. Man, talk about shooting daggers out of your eyes—Hiashi's glare was more like rapid machine gun fire, straight to the heart. Bam. One look and you're a dead sucker.

Tsunade closed her eyes for patience. "Okay, Hiashi, that's fine. But what will YOU be doing?" The celebration in my head that had begun at the beginning of her sentence ground to a halt when she came to the end of it. _Tsunade! Don't bring that up, you fool,_ I mentally screamed at her. That damn woman was always getting in my way. _He_ didn't need to do _anything._ I was just fine with having his shy daughter take care of me. Not that I _needed_ taking care of.

Hiashi smirked. "I'll be here if there is a situation that needs immediate, urgent action. But of course, there _won't_ be many." His words pierced Hinata, and I saw her deflate slightly, as if she was made of helium and Hiashi's words were needles, piercing her and slowly draining her of life. "Other than that, and any job assigned to me by you, Lady Tsunade, it will be Hinata's responsibility." I sucked in a breath and had to bite my lip, hard, to keep from grinning. _God _does_ answer prayer!_

A vein in Tsunade's forehead bulged. "Ugh. Fine," she spat. "_But_, Hiashi, you _will_ meet me in my office tomorrow morning. And then we _will_ discuss what you will do to actually _earn your acquittal."_ Her voice was poisonous, and with every stressed word, she jabbed her finger into Hiashi's chest. I was glad that, for once, I wasn't on the receiving end of her threats. Tsunade was famous for her hellish PMS cycles.

Hiashi's cool demeanor never wavered. He merely brushed himself off once Tsunade was finished with him and nodded brusquely once. He then waved his hand at Hinata pompously, which I assumed was a command to carry on with getting me situated in this crack house, before exiting the room. I rolled my eyes openly now. What a _prick_.

Tsunade crossed her arms, huffing exactly like the drama queen that she was. "That man," she grumbled, before tactfully stopping herself from insulting Hinata's father in front of her. I tried not to chuckle at the Hokage's frustration, then turned my gaze on Hinata. The girl was still standing demurely by us, understandably still a bit shocked. Although her face was ashen and her lips were pulled down ever so slightly in an almost imperceptible pout, she was still quite calm, given the situation. I was amazed by her composure. I figured on the inside she was probably attacking a mental voodoo doll of her father with full force. I know _I _would have if that damn son-of-a… was _my _father.

Tsunade took my suppressed laughter as a response to her flustered comment. She rounded on me, a familiar stern expression on her face. "Kakashi, you _will_ show respect for the man that is helping to save your skin." Her brown eyes bored into mine, offering no choice but submission. Hell, she never offered any other choice. I rolled by eyes, but nodded. "And no skirt chasing, hm?" Her voice had lowered so that Hinata would not hear. I grinned widely. My reputation as a pervert was still intact after all these years, thank you very much. I may have been nearing my mid-thirties, but I still had it. Yeah, that's right. You can applaud now, if you wish.

"Oh, Tsunade, you really underestimate me," I chuckled. "Do I really seem like that kind of person?" My voice was innocently light. Tsunade snorted. "You and damn Jiraya. I swear, he could have taught you. In fact, sometimes I think he did." She shook her head, feigning shame. I just grinned at her. Not that she could _see_ my teeth, but still… it's the thought that counts, right?

Tsunade looked back up at me, her eyes mischievous. "But, Kakashi, I know you're a man who's not afraid of change." Uh-oh. I didn't like the look in her eyes. Where was she going with this one? "That's why I was _so_ proud of you when you left it at home."

I cocked my head, confused, trying to ignore the feeling of dread that was growing in my stomach. "Left… what at home?" I didn't like the way the events were playing out.

"Your book," Tsunade chirped, her brown eyes dancing and a mocking smile tugging at her lips.

Oh Holy Mother of Jesus.

My book!

My enjoyment! My one escape from reality, gone when I needed it the most!

All my previous happiness immediately fizzled away, like a glass of champagne that had gone flat. I _hate_ flat champagne.

Tsunade merely chuckled and disappeared with a wave to Hinata. She left me drifting in uncharted waters, without even the safety of a familiar distraction to cling to? I was drowning because of my foolishness, and because of that _woman_.

How _could_ she?

Hinata tapped me on the shoulder, effectively jumpstarting both my thoughts and actions. I blinked, immediately composing myself before turning to face my guardian. Come on, Kakashi, be a man. Breathe, relax. Inhale, exhale. Okay.

I smiled at Hinata, my eyes being the only sign that I was doing so. Thankfully I was good at masking my emotions. I had years of practice. "Well." My voice was smooth, but the drowning man floated just below the surface, clawing desperately for air, for a lifeboat, for _something_.

Hinata obviously wasn't as good at controlling her emotions as I was. Her moon face was still shocked. "Um… ah…" It took her a few moments to find the right words. "Ka-Ka-Kakashi-san, I—"

She was cut off by a loud bang on the other side of the thin wall. Boisterous voices floated towards us as we both went stone still. The owners of those voices were obviously coming this way. Was the deal up already?

Hinata looked over at me, her pale round eyes looking strikingly similar to two full moons. I heard the sound of the handle being turned. In an instant I had made myself invisible, melting into the shadows and cloaking my chakra. Hinata flitted to the couch, sitting down and quickly pulling a stack of papers into her hands. I was surprised at her quick ingenuity. As for me, I was just thankful that I had goaded Nara Shikamaru into teaching me how to use shadow Jutsu.

Two servants burst into the room, laughing at some crude joke that I found rather infantile. Those fools probably wouldn't know good born if it slapped them in the face. Their laughter died in their throats abruptly as soon as they saw Hinata.

"Ah… L-lady Hinata," the two servants stumbled nervously over their greeting and bowed. I had forgotten that Hinata, being an official adult now, was considered the Lady of the house. As the eldest child, with no mother, it was common sense that she would hold such a rank. "We didn't know you were in here… we came to clean…" I knew they were lying. Those fools had come in here to read a dirty book. Not that I could really condemn them. You know, the whole 'don't point out a smote in your brother's eye if there's a log in yours' thing.

Hinata pursed her lips. I could hear her heart beating rapidly, but she managed to loosely cloak her fear with a look of irritation. "Y-yes, I'm a-actually in the m-middle of important p-paperwork for my fa-father." She gestured regally to the stack of papers in her hands. When I looked closer, I found that they had numbers scrawled haphazardly across their pages. I assumed they were used as scratch paper. I had to smile at my little guardian's cleverness.

The two servants flushed and bowed, backing out of the room and closing the door behind them, muttering apologies all the while. I smirked—fools. I could easily see the book hidden behind their backs. It was Jiraya's newest, no doubt. I chuckled. I had already read it—it was not as good as his previous works.

Hinata's breath slowed and I materialized again. She turned to look at me, her cheeks pale with fright. It just made her face look like a geisha's—white and round, and without the blemishes of commoners or youth. I gave her a lopsided smile; hell, I had thought that was hilarious. She didn't share my mirth. Her eyes were wide, and she looked like a frightened barn owl. I sighed, reaching out a hand and placing it on her head. "Relax," I murmured, "we're fine."

"But… if you had been seen…" her voice died as she imagined the horrors that would have resulted from her servants' foolishness. She shook her head and I moved my hand to her shoulder before leaning down to look in her eyes.

"But we weren't," I stated, my voice smooth so I could even out the rough edges of her fear. "And that's all that matters. Okay?"

She looked up at me and then away again, nodding solemnly. The set of her jaw told me she was still brooding. "Hey. _I _thought you did great. You're a quick thinker; has anyone ever told you that?" This time when she looked back up at me, there was a foreign emotion glimmering in her moon eyes. It took me a moment to place it, as Hinata wasn't used to being appreciated.

She looked up at me with the glow of a compliment rising in her cheeks. "R-really," She stuttered, "I-I thought—"

I cut her off by moving my hand to her head and patting it brusquely. "You were great. And you know how you could win even _more_ brownie points? You could show me where my room is," I answered as she looked up at me inquisitively.

A slow smile spread across Hinata's face, and I barely had enough time to glimpse its completion before she bowed in flustered agreement. I had never seen her smile genuinely before. I had never seen her eyes sparkle and blood rush to compliment her cheeks. I had never seen her rose lips part to reveal a starry smile.

I won't lie.

It was dazzling.

* * *

Even though it was so hot outside, the stairs bit back through the thin soles of my slippers. The echoes of two pairs of footsteps bounced off the cold concrete walls, somehow penetrating the pregnant silence between us.

By _us,_ I meant myself and the man who was walking a few feet behind me. I still found it hard to believe that Kakashi was the alleged traitor. In fact, sometimes I found it hard to believe that Kakashi was even a _ninja_. He was just so laid back.

The sound of his throat clearing brought my ears back to life. Silence, or semi-silence, has a way of pressing down on your eardrums until you begin to forget what sound sounds like. I started slightly, but couldn't turn to face him without slipping on the dark moss that abounded on the damp staircase. "So. This is quite a ways down," he quipped.

I smiled slightly. "Y-yes," I replied, my voice rough and unfamiliar in my throat from neglect. "My fa-father made s-sure that this b-basement was d-difficult to reach when he b-built it." That was true. Only Hyuugas could get in, granted that they possessed a special access code as well as our clan's signature eyes. The depth of the basement was an additional safety feature, to prevent any unwanted noises from reaching the household. Plus, Father normally betted on his… guests' inability of climbing numerous flights of stairs.

"Why?" Kakashi asked. His smooth voice was casual, as if he was asking about the weather. I chewed on my lip, mulling over how to give him a tactful answer. He didn't seem to mind waiting.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I turned to face him, my hand resting behind me on the handle of a nondescript black door. "Well," I admitted, "father d-didn't want a-anyone happening u-upon his 'guests.'"

Kakashi raised an eyebrow—or at least I _thought_ he raised an eyebrow, it was really hard to tell—and leaned in closer to me. "Guests?" His tone was suspicious, to say the least.

I sighed, softly. "That's what Father used to call them." I twisted my wrist, opening the door. "Not that I believe him," I murmured almost inaudibly as I turned and led him inside.

The room was sparsely furnished. There was a futon on the floor, with fresh sheets on it—I wondered how father had managed _that_—and a desk, complete with a chair, both cold and metallic. A closed black door on the left led to the bathroom, which was another humble show of Hyuuga hospitality. The walls were a gray industrial concrete, and cold seemed to radiate from them. I imagined them as hulking gray monsters with hearts of stone and sightless eyes. Windows were obviously impossible this far underground.

I turned to Kakashi with an apology on my lips, ashamed of the meager quarters my family had provided him with. He smiled at me and spoke before I could. "Thank you. It's much more than I could have hoped for under the circumstances." He really meant it, too. I looked down, blushing.

"Yes, b-but, I w-wish we could have g-given you b-better—" I was cut off by Kakashi as me patted me rather firmly on the head.

"Don't worry about it," he smiled at me, "I _love_ it." His voice was as smooth as a river, rushing softly over the slick rocks on the bottom. When he spoke, I could almost feel the cool water rushing over my body.

I ducked my head in an ashamed nod. Kakashi chuckled; there was the river again, this time sounding more like a gurgling brook. He patted me on the head once more, this time a little bit softer, before moving to put away his belongings.

I leaned against a wall as I watched Kakashi pull framed photographs and a few other memorabilia out of his bag. He casually placed them on his new desk, easily transforming what had formerly been a cold, hard hunk of metal into an object with a comfortable level of human warmth. It seemed that Kakashi was ambidextrous—he could fit in any setting. I smiled. He was also so easygoing that it was hard not to relax around him. He made me feel comfortable, even though I warned myself that getting comfortable around a man accused of criminal acts was not a good idea. I liked this strange new sensation of comfort and I found myself subconsciously seeking more.

That is, until he started unpacking his boxers.

It felt as if someone had lit a fire in my cheeks as I immediately blushed up a storm. I averted my eyes, the unwelcome awkwardness almost instantly replacing the comfort I had lapsed into just moments earlier.

"Ah, um, Ka-Kakashi-san," I stuttered, flustered, "I sh-should go m-make sure my f-family doesn't n-notice my a-absence." Oh dear, my stuttering was even worse than usual. When he looked over at me nonchalantly with a pair of boxers in his hand, I managed to turn a shade redder and burn a hundred degrees hotter. _He must think I'm such a freak._

"Oh, yeah, sure," his river-voice drawled, slick and smooth, "go on ahead. I'm sure I can find my way around." He exhaled softly in what was almost a chuckle. I, being the coward that I was, quickly made my escape. There was no way in heck that I would have been caught alone with a man and his underwear. In fact, I should not have even been looking at a man's underwear.

Not that anyone would have been around to catch me.

I flushed even deeper at that indecent thought, and my cheeks, which had just begun to cool down, flamed up again in an explosion of heat and redness. I placed a cool hand on my forehead and leaned my cheek against the icy wall, mentally kicking myself for having such a reaction.

That was when I heard him laughing. It started out as a low throaty chuckle, but then escalated into a crescendo of unstoppable laughter. My cheeks flamed again. He was laughing at me! Really? I mean, I knew that he was older than me—his thirty-four to my twenty made him nearly a decade and a half older than I—but still! It was indecent for an unmarried woman to see a man's undergarments—especially if he wasn't in the family! I fumed silently, concealing my chakra because my pride refused to let him know that I had heard his laughter. I also didn't want him coming outside and laughing in my face. With his nerve, anything was possible.

"She's a funny kid, huh, Obito," Kakashi chuckled as his laughter died down. I started. He was talking normally, as if holding a conversation with someone, but I didn't sense any presence other than the jounin's in the small room of his. "You'd have liked her a lot." I realized he _was_ talking to no one—at least, no one alive. I had heard the stories from squad seven. Obito, his closest friend, had been dead for years now.

"Yeah, you really would have." His voice grew rawer and rawer as he spoke, until I was sure that his throat had been scourged by sandpaper, until I could feel the river in his voice drying up, until I began to believe that if I opened that door I would see him holding his heart in his hands, small and warm and vulnerable.

I closed my eyes and turned my back on that unforgiving door. I noiselessly slipped away, leaving behind a man held together by photographs and memories, by letters and words and promises. I left behind a man crumbling at the edges, his fault lines giving out under years of pressure.

I left because I didn't know how to fix that crumbling man.

I left because running away was the one thing I was good at.


	3. Bad Dreams and Bacchanalia

A/N: Hey guys. Sorry that took so absurdly long. Haha. Yeah, I really have no excuses. Just that it was summer. And summer makes me lazy. (Don't maul meeee D: I wanted to relaxxx). But yeah. Here it is. Long overdue! But to make up for that fact, I made it my longest chapter yet! Haha. Another one'll be on the way. When I start writing it. ;) By the way, bacchanalia is the word of the day! If you don't know what it is, look it up. It might be on the SAT! Not! End A/N...

* * *

The grass is so thick my feet sink an inch into it. It is a deep, rich emerald that compliments the starch white of our blanket. I reach a hand into our basket and pull out a peach, golden and slightly furry. You smile.

I bite into it and taste its juicy succulence, feel its juice run down my chin, ecstatic to be having this moment, this time, with you. You reach out a hand and wipe my chin clean. I smile at you; you whom I adore; you, the only person I allow to see me for who I am.

The grey satin of my mask lies between us, small and insignificant, yet speaking volumes of my affection for you. Can you hear what it is saying?

"Kakashi?" Your voice warms my ears and I turn towards the sound, yearning for more. I am like a starved man presented with a feast, like an alcoholic locked in a winery. I have been deprived of you for too long, and so I have become even more addicted. "Would you like some more?" Your face is angelic, beautiful, as you extend your hand, another golden peach resting in the safe haven of your palms. In this, too, I feel I have been bereaved. All I can do is shake my head as I try to memorize your cherubic face.

It is then that I notice your small size. Your limbs are half the length of mine, your face smaller and rounder, your eyes too big for your age. It is at that moment that I see the pale cast of your skin and the dull black glaze slowly creeping across your eyes.

In an instant, you, Obito, slump to the ground, your red painting our blanket crimson and staining the emerald world around us until all I see is blue and red and white and black.

After that last small heartbeat, my world, once again, falls apart.

* * *

The cold grey walls loomed above me, providing both a harsh and welcome contrast to my dream. I sat up gasping for air, tangled helplessly in a thick comforter. The blood rushed in my ears so loudly that I almost missed hearing the small heartbeat next to me.

Hinata's eyes were wide with concern as I drew in a ragged breath, startled to find her sitting in a chair next to my bed. My hand flew to my face as I glanced down at myself. Luckily, I had fallen asleep with all my clothes on. _I must have dozed off,_ I thought to myself as I forced my breathing to even out, _and Hinata must have covered me with this blanket._

I appreciated her kindness, but was embarrassed to have let her see my weakness. I sighed, running a hand down my face. The girl stood up unsteadily. _Oh damn it. Here we go._ I hate pity. And empathy. And sympathy. And anything ending with –y that gives me those sorry looks. Am I crazy? Hell no. I'm just frayed at the edges.

"K-Kakashi-s-s-san, I'm s-sorry to have in-intruded b-b-but... i-it's j-j-just th-that…" _Damn, Hinata sure has a way of taking _forever_ to get to the point. Doesn't she ever get tired of that stutter of hers? _I resolved to fix her of this problem, because her sentences tried my patience. "W-well, I b-b-brought you y-your d-dinner…" She trailed off again and gestured to a plate resting on my desk, which she quietly handed to me. The food had gone cold, which I took to mean that she had been here for a while. I suppressed a groan—she had seen everything, hadn't she?

I shoved the damn comforter off me. Why the hell are they called comforters anyway? They don't bring _me_ any comfort, and they surely don't stop the nightmares. The blood rushed in my ears hotly as I propped up my pillows and sat back against them. The only seat in the cell, the desk, was occupied by Hinata. I chewed in silence as the girl turned her back on me and doodled on a scrap piece of paper. That was fine with me. It gave me more time to compose myself.

Obito.

His name never stopped haunting me. I brooded over this fact as I plowed through my surprisingly delicious dinner. My predicament reminded me of a quote I had read in a book once: 'He's always, always, in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.' I sighed softly and stared up at the grey walls, remembering my dream. I had had dreams like this every night for years—ever since he had died. Every night, my world was resurrected—and every night it collapsed around me again. The same book stated: 'If all else perished, and _he_ remained, _I_ should still continue to be, and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.'

Story of my life.

A small sound across the room snapped me out of my reverie. I turned my head towards Hinata, hurriedly composing my face into its usual relaxed state. The girl looked up at me shyly, embarrassed to have been caught. She was struggling for words. Aren't we all?

"Um… ah… Kakashi-s-san… I d-d-don't m-mean to b-be r-rude b-b-but…" Her small high voice stuttered even more now that she was nervous. Yeah, I seem to have that effect on people. They don't expect a strong ninja like me to have a weak spot, and it makes them nervous. That's why I tried to hide it. It didn't often work.

"W-well, w-w-what I-I'm trying t-to s-s-say is…" She drew in a breath and looked up at me, her cheeks tinted pink. _Get on with it, _I thought, impatiently. _I'd rather you do this like a band-aid. Rip me apart quickly with your looks. There's less pain that way._ Not that she could hear me. "D-d-does this h-h-happen o-often?"

Bull's eye. I sighed, running my hands through my hair as her quiet voice, dripping with empathy, cut me deep. I could lie to her. I could pretend that this was an uncommon malady and that after a few cups of steaming tea and some fresh air I'd be fine. I could smile and fake it until her doubts vanished, like I did with most others. I could have. I was good at that.

But not with her. She stared at me, trusting and innocent, seeming a lot like fragile china placed under my care. The smallness of her voice, or the set of her eyes, or maybe it was just the general way that she believed so wholeheartedly and unconditionally in me, made me veer from my usual untruthful responses. Or maybe I just needed to get this damn thing off my chest. Yeah. That's probably it.

There's a reason the word _embarrassed_ has an ass in it. At this moment, I was about to be that ass.

"Yes, Hinata, it happens a lot. Pretty much every night." I drew my hand down my face. My voice was rough and raw—I was doing a _horrible_ job of keeping my emotions in check. I _hated_ being the broken man, and yet here I was, tearing apart in front of Hinata. I couldn't take the pity of others. I didn't want to hear their empty condolences and meaningless apologies. That's what I never really _get_ about the general reaction to death. They're gone already. Saying sorry won't change anything.

Believe me. I should know.

I was afraid to meet her eyes. After admitting it to myself, I balked. _Excuse me?!_ The much bolder, unfamiliar side of myself roared to life. _You're afraid of what this girl-child thinks of you? Really?_ I drew in a sharp breath and looked up at her, dreading the pity I expected to find lurking in her moon-eyes.

What I found there instead was shame. Her cheeks were burning and her eyes darkly subdued. My brows furrowed in confusion. _She_ was ashamed? She had no need to be.

"K-K-Kakashi san, I'm s-sorry I d-disturbed you. I-I… w-w-well, you l-looked s-s-so t-t-troubled b-by y-your d-d-dream…" She ducked her head and I realized she was ashamed to have seen me at my most vulnerable. She looked up at me from under her thick lashes, her eyes seeking forgiveness and yet not daring to believe that I would grant it.

I turned my body so that I was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing Hinata. She hesitated, unsure of what to make of the proximity. We were only a few feet apart—close enough to hear every thudding heartbeat, every shaky breath, every uncertain syllable. Close enough to spread our flaws out between us as a trembling silver barrier, an invisible weight pressing down on the both of us.

I ran my hands through my hair again, a nervous habit, a looked her dead in the eyes. No more running. I had to face myself sometime.

"Thank you, Hinata. I really appreciate your concern. I'm just sorry you had to see me like that." My voice grated against my ears—my profession of my weakness mixed with my jagged voice made for an unpleasant combination. I placed my hands on my knees and bowed. "I promise you, you wont ever have to see me like that ever ag—"

I was cut off by an uncharacteristically tough side of Hinata. She whacked me upside the head. It was not very hard, but the unexpectedness of it caught me off guard. I looked up, shocked. "What the hell was _that_ for?!"

She had folded her arms and her lips were pursed irately. She had a kind of quiet anger. Instead of fuming, like Tsunade, she smoldered. Her eyes were smoking, white charcoals. My own eyes involuntarily widened at this rare glimpse of a tough Hinata. Crucify me for saying this, but she was almost… _sexy_.

"No! Don't _ever_ hold in your true feelings because you don't want to burden others with them!" Her voice was louder, although it could still not be considered a yell, and anger seemed to momentarily impede the stuttering. As she stared at me with now molten silver eyes, I caught a glimmer of desperation. "If you do," she whispered, her head drooping in defeat, "You'll end up just like me."

I took this information and cradled it in my hands. I held it up to my face and gave it a good long look. I realized that I had been foolish to think that I was the only broken person in my small world.

I realized that once I started_ really_ looking, started actually caring about other people's lives, what I found there would probably surprise me. Every man has his demons, some more than others. I realized that I wasn't the only one held together by the fragile glue of memories and photographs and what-could-have-beens, that I wasn't the only one who, in the quiet cushion of the night, looked back and regretted.

* * *

And so Hinata unexpectedly pulled the scales from my eyes. She ripped them out just like I had asked, just like a band aid. It was quick, yes, but it still stung for a couple of days afterwards, over the course of which I glimpsed the shards of her past, tinged red with regret. The truth hurts. Maybe that's why I had found it easy to lie about my pain—facing the truth is more painful than turning your back on it.

In the next couple of weeks, we both adjusted to my new life. She fixed my broken mind and I fixed her broken words. We would spend hours after dinner working on grammar and memories and thoughts and words. She became my only human contact, my only taste of the outside world. She fixed my cracks, filled them with laughter and words and attention. I fixed her fractures, stitching them together with a thread made of encouragement and prompting, or seconds and minutes and hours of simply _listening_—it did wonders for her, as she was not used to being heard. I would try to give you a more detailed description of those days, but I might bore you.

I'm sorry, I lied.

The truth is, I'd prefer to keep them to myself, if you don't mind. I keep them locked in away in the deepest drawers of my brain, hidden in the shadows, and when I feel as if I'm about to break apart again, I pull them back out and let her patch me back up all over. I turn those days over in my mind, remembering her glue, her sown words, her secrets. I memorize them, and when I put them back, I am somewhat sane again.

* * *

If two wrongs don't make a right, it stands to reason that two broken halves don't make a whole.

So why is it that Kakashi and I, after those last couple of weeks, still found ourselves clinging to each other, trying to simultaneously patch together ourselves and the other?

For the past month, we had grown closer—both physically and emotionally. Father pretty much dumped all the responsibilities of taking care of Kakashi on me. Not that I minded much—it kept me out of the way of father's disapproving glare. Kakashi and I were helping each other overcome our fears. Yeah, I know it sounds totally corny, but it was true. We were both running from something—he from his painful past and I from my seemingly inevitable future as a Hyuuga puppet, used and abused and then thrown away. In funning from our fears, we ended up running headlong into each other.

The best part about it is that Kakashi's pretty much gotten rid of my stutter. I still stutter over difficult words and when I'm anxious, but most of the time I sound like a normal person. Which may seem like no big deal to _you,_ but after twenty years of sounding like a freak, I feel a bit more self-confident.

And, for once, I'm not afraid of the changes I see myself going through.

I shifted the plate of food I was carrying to my other hand to open the cold black door. He wouldn't need a warning—my energy's signature would alert him to my presence. The smell of a hot, home-cooked meal probably wouldn't hurt either.

I found Kakashi sleeping, his arm splayed across his face. Seeing as there was nothing much to do _besides_ sleep when you are locked in your room all day, the jounin took numerous catnaps, ranging from five to fifty minutes. From his shallow breathing I could tell that he hadn't been asleep for more than ten.

I smiled almost reflexively as I put the plate down, careful not to wake him. Poor Kakashi had through so much—with the false accusations, having to hide (which didn't suit him well at all—I could tell he hated being thought of as a coward) and most of all, being haunted by the ghost of his friend. Not that it _was_ his fault he died—which is what I'd been trying to get him to believe for the past couple of weeks. But he, being of the male population, was naturally a stubborn S.O.B.

He also was a masochist and took pleasure in wearing himself out every day, both physically and mentally, by training both himself and me. For himself, he usually did upwards of a thousand push-ups and squats as well as jutsu work. Seeing as there's not much you can do in a cramped basement, it got pretty repetitive.

For me, well, he helped me overcome my insecurities. I'm pretty sure I mentioned heretofore his cure of my broken voice. My speech is still not impeccable, but we're both trying to make me as normal as possible. I've come a long way.

But it's not like father noticed, anyway.

I sighed and let my eyes trail down his body, my cheeks only tainting themselves with a light shade of pink—thank goodness I had gotten _slightly_ used to his tendency to show skin, as he seemed to have a phobia of anything fabric and shirt-shaped. His torso rippled with muscle that moved slightly with each breath. His arms were huge—almost as large as my calves, with lean muscle stretching the infinite span between his shoulders and wrists. His abdominal muscles were flat enough to iron a shirt on, and frankly, the most distracting. I could get lost studying the endless maze of muscle and sinew, his skin stretched taut over an endless ocean of raw power. My eyes wandered down the pathways embedded in his stomach, lingered on the soft skin near his waist. I had to catch my breath and check myself before I became too engrossed in what lay hidden in the shadows of his cut-offs. I placed a hand on my now-burning cheek. Studying his skin always lit a fire under _mine_.

But it's not like I _liked_ him, though. I mean, that'd be improper. No, no. His body was just too handsome for his own good. My reactions were normal. Right?

Kakashi stirred and groaned softly. I started and looked over at him to find him doing his best not to wake up, his hand covering his eyes and blocking out the light. I giggled at his reluctance and waved the food near his face. He groaned again and rolled over.

"Ngh. Damn it, Hina, you know I can't resist that," he drawled sleepily, his river-voice rough around the edges. I laughed and placed it back on what passed as his desk.

"You better wake up soon. It's getting cold." I teased him with this information—he hated a cold meal.

His sharp intake of breath and the rustle of his sheets as they moved under his body were familiar sounds—I had a tendency to walk in on Kakashi as he slept. He sat up and stretched, and my breath caught in my throat as his muscles rippled with action. I had to busy myself with his plate to give my blush time to fade.

Suddenly, his arms were encompassing me, reaching for the plate. Body heat rolled, ripe, off his arms and chest in waves, heating my back and singing the sides of my face. I felt the blood rise in my cheeks as his hot breath washed over my neck. He paralyzed me with his nearness.

Then, just as suddenly, I was free again. He sat on the bed with his plate balanced on his knee, simultaneously trying to shovel food into his mouth with one hand and prop up pillows to lean back against with the other. I couldn't actually _see_ his mouth, though, even though his mask was pulled down around his neck. He used this kind of jutsu that would distract you if your eyes wandered too close. One second I'd be almost able to see the portion normally hidden by his mask, and the next I'd find myself staring at the ceiling. It got kind of annoying, especially when trying to hold conversations with him while he was eating, so I took to staring at his eyes (or eye, if you want to get all technical about it) instead. Believe me, it wasn't hard.

"Tho, hina, whaddya commere for?" I laughed at the jounin's full-mouthed botched pronounciation. His brows pulled down and he pouted as he swallowed his food with a loud gulp. "Sorry, geez. But seriously, you don't look so hot."

I frowned and propped up my head in my hands. There was no point in arguing. I wasn't exactly happy. (Sorry I didn't tell you earlier—I didn't want to bother you. Well, that and I had gotten a bit distracted by Kakashi's body. Can you really blame me?)

He was both disturbed and intrigued by my silence. "Hina?" he asked, concern lighting his eyes. I sighed—I wasn't _as_ depressed as he evidently thought I was. I had just been distracted by my memories of his body. (I'm pathetic, aren't I? But I repeat, I _don't _like him. Don't give me that look. I _don't_.)

"Okay, okay. It's just that… well, tonight's the first night of obon season, and F-father refuses to let me go." Such a childish complaint, I know, but _still_. I loved obon!

Kakashi scratched his head, rousing the molten silver that was his hair. "Why?"

I scowled. "I don't know. Some crap about how it'd be improper to go and 'flirt' with young men," Kakashi snorted—flirting and I don't exactly match, "and that I need to stay and make sure the servants don't find you. Not that I mind the latter."

Kakashi chuckled and finished inhaling his dinner. He set the plate aside, then proceeded to set the full weight of his mahogany gaze on me.

"Well," he said, his river voice both cool and burning at the same time (or did I just imagine the smoldering undertone?), "do you want to celebrate the beginning of obon season with me?"

I grinned and jumped up on the bed to give him a quick, tight hug. "You're the best!" I squealed happily. "But, wait. How exactly are we going to _celebrate_?" I gestured to the barren, gray-walled room. It didn't really invoke a partying mood.

His gaze turned mischievous and he reached under his bed. When he straightened up, there was a sake bottle in his hand. I gasped, unbelieving. "Where'd you get that?"

He chuckled. "Well, don't kill me or anything, but I knew today was a holiday I I kind of had a feeling your dad wouldn't let you party, so I filched this from the kitchen so we could have our _own_ party."

I gasped again, my hand flying to my mouth. "You _left_ this _room_?" I put my head in my hands and made my voice desperate and scared. "Do you _know_ how much trouble I could have gotten into?"

His face was remorseful. "Hina, I was just trying to—"

I put my hand up to cut him off, my other hand still covering my face. I glared up at him, letting my eyes hold their phony desperate hue for a few moments before the wide grin I was suppressing could no longer be held back. I let it creep across my face as laughter bubbled up out of my lips. He had gotten out of here! He had seen something other than this damn gray room! I laughed until the room spun, until I flopped on my back next to him, out of breath and with cramping sides. I laughed because it was all so surreal.

He chuckled. "You had me there," he murmured, his smooth, cool voice washing over me as he flopped down beside me. Did he notice how my breath caught in my throat, how it died when his heat seeped through my skin and radiated within my bones? My eyes swept up to his and were easily entangled in the dark mahogany and butterfly lashes that were now trained on my own. If gazing at him thrilled me, finding him doing the same took the thrill and magnified it a thousand times.

It also scared me. _We can't like each other!_ I screamed at myself. _We can't! _I _can't!_ The words echoed through my head and bounced off the glaring edges of my brain, shimmied and buried themselves in all the cracks and fissures, refusing to come out. As I drew in a ragged breath and my lungs welcomed the air like a prodigal son, I realized I hadn't been breathing. I'm sure he realized it, too.

I sat up my head spinning from the lack of oxygen—at least this is what I told myself—and placed a hand on my forehead. Kakashi sat up beside me. His quiet breathing was the metronome for my heart to beat in time with as it stamped its notes into my chest, burning a name into the pink folds of tissue that caressed the small quiet drum of my heart, a name that would go with me wherever I went. _Oh, dear, _I thought. _I can't like him. I don't._ But I was becoming more and more uncertain by the minute.

He cleared his throat, sandpaper on limestone, making a smooth path for his river-voice to flow down. I looked over at him and his eyes caught mine again. I had to force myself to not get lost, to keep away from the dangerous mahogany maze, but thankfully he made it easier for me to swim out of the grasping net of his eyes. Unfortunately, it was one temptation traded in for another.

"Well, now that we're done exercising our abdominals for today—" I don't even want to describe the picture _that_ placed in my mind, because it made me dizzy, "—why don't we get on with the party, hmm? You seem like you need it." He knocked me lightly on the head and I blushed my way out of my fantasies.

"Ah… Y-yes." I crawled over to where he had set down the bottle. Gingerly picking it up, I twirled it slowly in my hands. It was high-quality stuff. Or at least I thought it was (my saké knowledge was limited, to say the least). Kakashi plucked to bottle out of my hand and produced two sake cups.

"Wait, wait." I grinned mischievously as a new idea formed in my head. "We need to be dressed appropriately." _We_ meaning _him_—I was already wearing a Kimono. He frowned, his fingers frozen on top of the bottle.

"Why," he whined. "We don't _need_ to be dressed at all." My face flamed at the image _that_ gave me—damn Kakashi and his unknowingly suggestive comments—as I quickly summoned up one of Father's dress kimonos. I drew in a large breath to speed up the chakra refill and handed it to Kakashi. It was a dark blue piece, complete with loose pats. When worn, it made one think of a samurai.

Kakashi grumbled a lot and disappeared into the bathroom to change, reluctantly handing over the bottle. I laughed and flopped back down on the bed. (Can you blame me? It was just _so_ comfortable. And warm, thanks to the remnants of his body heat. It also smelled wonderfully like him.

_I can't._

_Well, why the hell not?_)

The door slammed open and I looked over to see Kakashi; except maybe it _wasn't_ Kakashi. Decent clothing transformed him into an absolutely gorgeous man. The dark blue kimono jacked had white pinstripes that highlighted his hair. The jacket was loose, and it flapped open; his pants were slung dangerously below his navel. I gasped involuntarily at his ripped abdomen. You just _don't_ get used to such a degree of perfection. He looked like a samurai, honorable and loyal—all he was missing were the two faithful Katana samurai warriors carried. All together, he looked _gorgeous_.

I looked down at my own kimono, decorated with pink cherry blossoms, which paled in comparison, and sighed. "Kakashi, look what you've done. Now I look like a peasant compared to you."

He chuckled and drew himself closer, reaching out to take the bottle back. "A damn good looking peasant, mind you." His eyebrows raised suggestively and my stomach did a flip as my face lit on fire.

With a muted pop, the top of the bottle came off. Kakashi sat next to me, almost close enough to touch. Almost. It was both pleasurable and infuriating. He smiled at me and poured sake into my cup as well was his. "To obon season," he raised his glass.

"To obon," I quietly parroted, although I found myself hoping there was a bigger motive to this.

I tossed back the glass and gasped as it burned its way down my throat. It was bittersweet and _tasted_ like alcohol. I though the whole point of finely crafted drinks was to hide the fact that they were, well, _alcohol_. I guess the inventors of saké kind of missed the point.

Kakashi laughed at my distaste. "The first one is always the most disgusting," he chuckled, smoothly refilling my glass along with his. He tossed back his saké with a seasoned confidence. I swallowed my uncertainty along with another glass of the firery liquid.

He smoothly poured me another and another and another and Kakashi in blue was always there so steady not drunk but oh I am am I? After the fifth they all taste the same as clouds river voice washing from a dark blue sky the clouds have silver linings, silver and blue and cool. Trees the trees also grow up through the clouds but because of the clouds I can only see their trunks their deep rich mahogany trunks dark darker with each look mahogany through silver white blue river-clouds. Half-moon face that's his oh so blurred at the edges but I want to _see_ it. Another glass Kakashi's hand river-voice Hinata I Think You've Had Enough. What do you mean Kakashi-kun? Enough is Enough and not enough and his hand on my arm fire in my arm burning oh river-voice please put it out. Tall dark trees boring into my soul so dark each stare dark and deep and full and the clouded half-moon face blurry but suddenly the moon is full and big and bright blurred at the edges and not just the edges the trees I am losing then the trees are gone all I see is white white white blue white white red? Red what why where is red the moon is _bleeding_? Red and white and blue and white and _red_ and—

Bliss.


End file.
